Chapter Five
Chapter Five
“Mindy!” Allie called to her aunt as she kicked her way into the kitchen through the back door. “Mindy! You owe me! You owe me huge! ”
No one was there. Assuming Mindy was in the office, she prattled on a little louder. “I got the knob for the stove. Boy was that an ordeal! But!” She dropped the heavy tote bags she’d been lugging. “I went to see Paolo at the market because, you know, I was already in the neighborhood, and he had these awesome pie pumpkins, and he gave me the best deal on them. At least I had extra bags with me, but I still looked bonkers riding my bike carrying ten pumpkins in bags hanging off of me everywhere!”
Still no answer or response of any kind to her monologue. She peered into the office. It was also empty.
“Mindy? She walked through to the front café space.
“Allie Jetsk-uhhh, Allie Andrews! Hello!”
Ryan Abernathy was in the café. Again.
“Hello, Allie!” It was George. Ryan was sitting across from George. In her spot. “Ryan and I were just talking about you!”
“I didn’t know you were doing an ’80s cover song project.” Ryan leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. Goose bumps instantly covered her arms. She cursed her traitor of a body and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
She scowled. “That’s because I didn’t tell you. And what are you doing here anyway?” She looked past him at George, who had a wide smile on his face.
“Who made your tea, George?”
“I did.” Ren appeared from behind Allie, carrying a bin of dirty dishes.
“Ren did just fine.” George caught Allie’s eye and shook his head briefly and stuck out his tongue.
“George, I saw that!” Ren rolled their eyes. “You’re impossible. I do it exactly like Allie does.”
“I guess Allie’s just special.” George nudged Ryan’s arm. “Don’t you think she’s special?”
“Oh yes. There was never any doubt from me. Very special.” He looked at her again, his eyes dancing around. He obviously grasped how uncomfortable this entire situation was making her. And for some reason, he found that hilarious.
“Where’s Mindy?” Allie asked Ren, ignoring everyone else.
“She went to get some more pie pumpkins.”
“Dammit!”
Feeling defeated, Allie slumped into the seat next to George. The old man patted her shoulder gently.
“Looks like you’ve had quite a day.”
Allie shrugged and sighed deeply. Ryan slid his plate across the table to her. A very tempting chocolate chip cookie sat on the plate, untouched.
“Thank you.” She slid it back toward him. “But I skipped lunch, and I’m so hungry that if I eat a cookie, my blood sugar will go bananas.”
“You should come for dinner at my place.” Ryan said this with a casual air that made her think it was common practice for him to invite near-strangers to his home for meals. Was this just normal for him? Was it weird that she thought it was weird? Ignoring her silence and furrowed brow, Ryan went on. “George! You should come, too!”
George waved his hand dismissively. “Thank you, my boy, but it’s lasagna night at the residence. Can’t miss it.”
“I get that! Who doesn’t love a good lasagna. Allie?”
“Yeah, lasagna’s okay.”
Ryan chuckled. The hearty sound made her cheeks warm, even though she knew he was laughing at her .
“I mean, do you want to come for dinner?”
“Oh. Uh…”
Not especially.
But she also didn’t want to haul her uninspired self into the café kitchen to throw together yet another mediocre sandwich.
“Don’t worry.” Ryan leaned back in his chair and put both hands behind his head. His foot touched hers under the table, and she quickly tucked her legs under her chair. “I’m not cooking. I’m the cleanup guy. Anisha does all the cooking, and she’s real good at it.”
Anisha. Oh yes. The girlfriend. Maybe wife? Ryan didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t always mean anything. Allie was starting to feel a little sick. She did not want to care whether he was married or not. She was about to refuse his invitation and start planning her evening of solitary sandwich eating when George spoke.
“Is Anisha your girlfriend?”
Ryan laughed at that. “Oh, no. Not that kind of thing. Roommate. Good friend as well. Not romantic.”
He looked at Allie as he said the last sentence. She became very interested in a circular stain on the wooden tabletop.
George finished his tea and stood up shakily. “Ah! A single guy. Nothing wrong with that. I was once a hit with the ladies as well.”
“Not hard to believe, in your case!” Ryan stood up and took the older man’s elbow. “But I have to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a hit with the ladies.”
George waved his hand as if he didn’t believe this, and Ryan helped him navigate the closely packed tables and chairs on his way out. When George had been safely delivered to the door, Ryan sat back down across from Allie.
“So, what about it? Dinner?”
“With you and your roommate?”
“My roommate who is a very good cook, yes. And she never minds if I bring home a friend to eat with us.”
“I told you, I don’t have friends.”
“Do you have dinner companions?”
Allie stared at him. He held her gaze. How did a man have eyelashes that long, anyway? Her stomach rumbled.
She sighed. “Okay. Just this one time.”
“Awesome!” He clapped his hands. “It’s about a twenty-minute walk if you’re up for that. Or we could take the train.”
“Walking’s fine.”
She grabbed a sweater and her small hipsack full of essentials and said goodbye to Ren, ignoring their blatant stare as she and Ryan left the café together.
The setting sun cast a golden glow over the block as they walked west, making intricate patterns of light and shade around the fire escapes of the tall brick building on the corner. True to his overly friendly nature, Ryan stopped to pet a docile Great Dane, gray with black spots and a red kerchief, tethered to a bike rack. It occurred to Allie that they were both gentle giants.
When Ryan stood to walk again, he almost fell over a metal trash can. Instinctively, Allie reached out for his elbow and tugged him toward her, out of the way. They stopped walking for a second, and he looked down at her.
“Hey.” His voice was soft. “Thanks for that.”
They were standing so close together. And she was going to his apartment. How had she ended up here? She dropped his arm and took a step back.
“Be more careful. We can’t have you falling and crushing people’s dogs.”
“Aw,” Ryan looked back at the Dane. “BamBam can probably handle himself.”
“BamBam?”
“Yeah, that’s what his tag said.”
Allie narrowed her eyes at him. “You pay an alarming amount of attention to very small details.”
“It’s one of my many alarming superpowers.”
Allie laughed in spite of herself. Her shoulders started to relax as she allowed herself to enjoy Ryan’s company and look forward to the free dinner on offer. An actual dinner made in a kitchen with multiple ingredients, served hot. She didn’t know the last time she’d experienced that.
Ryan spent the rest of their walk chattering about the dishes his roommate liked to cook—ratatouille, tahdig, pad see ew—and then segueing to some minor gossip from the podcast studio about cohosts fighting over a new theme song.
“How about you?” Ryan asked as they rounded a corner, swerving around a riot of plastic flowers on display outside a Dollar Junction. “Any scandalous workplace gossip?”
The conversation she’d had with Mindy about her retirement echoed in her head. Did that count as drama? Allie’s eyes followed a man on a bright-green Vespa whizzing by them, darting in and out of traffic.
“Nope,” she finally responded. “Mindy is the most no-drama person there ever was. And that just sets the tone for everyone else. Ren’s had crappy jobs before, and they are just always happy to be working in a place where they’re respected and taken care of. We have a few other very part-time filler staff, but they’re all students and just…chill.”
“And Mindy is your aunt? Right?” he asked. “Is the whole family low-drama?”
This made Allie bark with bitter laughter. “Oh, no. No, no, no. But that’s a story for another time. Or a longer walk. Definitely a few high-drama types in our family’s past.”
“Well, that’s most families, I guess.” Ryan shrugged.
Allie looked up at him in time to see a flicker in his usual cheery countenance. She was curious but didn’t pry. They hardly knew each other.
A welcome and pleasant silence fell over them for the remainder of the walk. After they’d turned onto a quiet, leafy street, Ryan stopped at a well-maintained concrete stoop and nodded toward a security door made of decorative curving iron filigree.
“This is it.” He unlocked the door and gestured for her to ascend the stairs. On the third floor, he stopped at apartment 306 and unlocked the door to reveal a tidy foyer opening into a large, warm space.
Ryan took her jacket and hung it on a hook by the door, alongside the most glamorous collection of coats Allie had ever seen. Every material, color and pattern she could think of were represented. Ryan saw her gawking.
“Ah yes, Anisha’s wardrobe is one of a kind,” he explained as he led her farther into the apartment.
Allie wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find. A college bachelor pad, maybe? Broken IKEA furniture and dead plants? A man who remembered her from shows at a dirty Southern punk venue did not strike her as someone who would have invested a lot of money into home decor.
Whatever she was picturing, the room she found herself in was definitely not it.
The walls were the kind of exposed brick that Allie thought only appeared in the fake New York apartments seen on TV. She’d never actually been in a place that had them, but here they were. And the ceilings were so high; it was like a one-room museum. She was used to living in what was almost a crawl space. It suited her five-foot-two frame just fine, but someone like Ryan would barely fit in her bedroom. Not that Ryan would ever have a reason to be in her bedroom.
And the windows. Each tall window provided a generous view of Brooklyn’s charming dusk. There was not a single broken piece of IKEA furniture to be seen, just a collection of items that looked as if they were from one of Brooklyn’s finer vintage furniture shops. And all the plants—there were a lot of plants—were clearly thriving. String of pearls and pothos draped their way down the tall shelves, and verdant spider plants hung in macramé hangers by each window. She followed Ryan into the large living area. Something smelled delicious. She detected rosemary. And garlic. And so many other things she couldn’t identify but wanted to eat immediately.
“Holy shit.” She spoke quietly, but Ryan still heard her.
“Yep.” He nodded. “My apartment is fancier than me.” He pointed at a closed door with an iron knob. “My room’s over there. It’s the smaller one. Bathroom’s there, right past the entry. And Anisha’s room is at the other end.”
The large room where they stood had kitchen cabinets and appliances along the wall nearest to Anisha’s room. Just in front of the kitchen space, a long rectangular wooden table sat surrounded by an array of mismatched chairs. Ryan flopped down on the long brown leather couch, its scuffed and weathered surface home to a pile of blankets and throw pillows of various shapes. “Have a seat! Dinner will probably be ready soon.”
Allie perched on the edge of an Eames lounge chair that wobbled precariously. Seeing her startle and grip the armrest, Ryan sat up. “Oh yeah, that chair was Anisha’s uncle’s. It’s more for show.” He gestured to a nondescript armchair with a matching ottoman on the other side of the room. “That one is not as hip but way more comfortable.”
Already feeling self-conscious, Allie considered staying in the wobbly lounger but gave up quickly and scurried over to the better option. Ryan was right. It was much more comfortable. She leaned back cautiously.
Just as she’d tentatively raised her feet up onto the ottoman, the door by the kitchen flew open and a gorgeous woman in a very dramatic, multicolored floor-length caftan burst into the room.
“Oh shit!” The woman—Anisha, Allie supposed—shouted as she went right for the stove and lifted the lid of a cast-iron Dutch oven that was steaming on top of it. “I had to get out of my jeans or I was going to die. But dinner is”—she bent to open the main oven, releasing more steam and a wave of the aroma that had greeted them, and then sang the rest of her sentence—“allllllmoooooost reeeeeeadyyyyyyy!”
Ryan grinned and called out across the room. “Anisha! I brought a guest!” He pointed one hand toward each of them. “Allie Andrews, meet Anisha Patel.”
Anisha slammed the oven door and stood up abruptly, her gaze zeroing in on Allie, who raised one hand in an awkward wave.
“Allie with the band?” Anisha said, hustling toward them, wiping her hands on a tea towel as she went. Her accent softened the w into a smooth v sound.
Allie shot a withering look at big-mouthed Ryan and stood up to offer her hand to Anisha. “Allie from the coffee shop .”
Anisha tilted her head to one side and looked questioningly at Ryan, who shrugged. Allie released Anisha’s hand with a resigned sigh. “Okay, also from the band. But that was a long time ago.”
“Well, if he was a mere boy of nineteen when he was watching you, it was definitely a long-ass time ago.” Anisha flicked the tea towel at Ryan. An impressive snap rang through the air between them as the towel came in contact with his shoulder. He scowled but couldn’t keep it up for very long before he broke into a grin.
“Must you always choose violence?”
“It’s my favorite way of communicating, you know that.”
It was rare for Allie to immediately warm to someone, but she couldn’t help herself with Anisha. It was a magnetic draw that reminded her of when she first met Jessi in their freshman year when they were assigned lockers next to each other. Right from that moment, Allie would have done anything for the cool new friend with the half-shaved head and the engaging sneer.
“Allie?”
Allie’s head snapped toward Ryan. “Sorry, what?”
“Do you want something to drink? Wine? Soda? Water?”
Allie wanted wine. She hesitated for a moment. Wine often made her overly talkative, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to become Chatty Allie in front of two people who were essentially strangers. But her eye caught Anisha’s kind expression and she uncharacteristically threw caution to the wind. “Wine would be great, thanks.”
“Dinner’s ready anyway, so we can move to the table.” Anisha gently cuffed Ryan’s head as she turned back toward the kitchen, messing up his neatly combed hair. He smoothed it back into place and caught Allie’s eye.
“See?” He gestured at his head with his index finger. “Violence!”
Allie followed them to the table. She chose a wooden chair with aged white paint and a striped cushion on the seat. Ryan sat beside her, at a respectable distance. Anisha moved to the opposite side of the table, which was scattered with tealight candles that complemented the soft light from various lamps around the room. She insisted on serving them, ladling a silky orange soup into bright-blue bowls.
Allie closed her eyes and breathed in the scent, cumin and cinnamon and something else that she couldn’t place. It put her usual sandwich-and-apple dinners to shame immediately.
“It’s squash soup,” Anisha said. “Nothing fancy, but then, I didn’t know we were having company. And those are roasted potatoes. We have a little herb garden on our balcony, but most of the plants have given up and succumbed to autumn. Rosemary likes the cold, though, so I’m putting it in everything. Let me know if there’s too much on those potatoes.”
Everything was delicious, perfectly seasoned. Allie was suddenly overwhelmed by the whole experience of being there for dinner, watching Ryan and Anisha joke with each other in the light of the candles, steam from the soup floating up past the casual, happy expressions on their faces.
This must be normal for them.
Allie couldn’t imagine it. Someone making dinner every night. A person across the table to recap the day with. She took a gulp of her wine.
“Do you cook every night?” She directed the question to Anisha, who was scooping seconds of potatoes onto her plate.
“Uh-huh.” Anisha jerked her thumb in Ryan’s direction. “He cleans up. It’s way easier now that he has a more regular schedule and a job close to home. Our dinner schedule was ridiculous before he got the podcast job. He worked as an usher at two theaters in Manhattan. Totally different schedule every week. He either ate early or heated up leftovers late when he got home. We both like this better.”
“It’s nice.” Allie drank more wine. “You’re more than roommates, really.”
Anisha nodded enthusiastically. “Platonic life partners. That’s what I always tell him we are.”
Ryan laughed. “I know, I’m spoiled, I shouldn’t complain. But Jesus, more than once she’s said that to a lady I brought home and scared them right away.”
“You’re exaggerating!” Anisha waved her hand at him and shook her head.
“Nuh-uh. What about Gemma? You freaked her out when you got me to do your laundry that time. Never saw her again after she found me folding your unmentionables.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t just put off by your irritating personality?” Anisha asked, with mock sweetness.
Allie wondered how many ladies Ryan brought home on a regular basis. She remembered what he’d said to George back at the café.
“He was just insisting that he is not a ladies’ man,” she said, smiling innocently and taking a sip from her glass.
“Ha!” Anisha grinned as she scooped more potatoes onto her plate. “He sure goes on a lot of dates for someone who isn’t.”
Ryan cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. “First dates,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Anisha held a hand up to her ear.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “I said I go on a lot of first dates. Then, as you kindly put it, I apparently drive them away with my irritating personality.”
Anisha’s eyes softened, and she held Ryan’s gaze. “Hey. I was joking. And anyway, you’re usually the one that breaks it off before the girls do. I don’t think those ladies get to know you enough to learn how truly irritating you are.”
Ryan gestured toward Anisha and looked at Allie. “And there you have it, folks! My ever-loving platonic life partner! Who thinks I’m deeply irritating, apparently.”
“I’m sure Allie thinks you’re irritating, too.” Anisha said, standing up. “You’re lucky she’s now met me. You may actually get to see her again. More wine, Allie?”
Allie smiled. The two of them were fascinating. She slid her glass forward.
“Sure. Why not?”